"What in the name of all that's holy were you thinking?!?" shouted Carter. The normally-stoic commander of Banshee Squadron was seriously breaking character, becoming more unglued by the moment.
Max, the reluctant recipient of her boss' philippics, stood stiffly at attention on the deck of the Hornet's ventral hangar bay weathering the squall. Sam and Jo were still in the hangar as well, but were making sure to stay well out of range with their heads down, lest they too pick up collateral damage from a stray bullet or some such.
"Just look at the damage!" Carter was saying, waving her arms around. Max risked a quick looked. Yes, there was indeed damage. A considerable amount of damage, actually. Support beams were hanging from the ceiling at odd angles, as well as numerous sputtering ODN conduits, wires, braces and circuit boards; all broken and shaken loose during the battle with the Mulluran fighters. The battle during which the Banshees were supposed to have kept the Hornet from harm.
"The cleaning service is gonna have to put in some overtime on this one...," muttered Max, although without the usual gusto that normally fueled her witticisms.
Carter suddenly stopped gesturing around at the damage and lowered her arms to her sides. Taking a step closer to Max so that she stood toe to toe with her, she looked Max square in the eye and said very slowly, very carefully, in a low and dangerously serious voice, "I'd consider very carefully before making another smart-ass comment, Lieutenant Commander."
Max sobered up instantly. "Yes, Commander," she said, uncharacteristically chastened.
"This is probably nothing!" continued Carter, again gesturing at the damage around the bay. "The ship was hit down in Engineering. If things are this bad up here, imagine what a twisted mess things must be down there. We're barely able to limp along at Warp 1.5!" She was starting to get heated again.
Max managed to resuscitate some of her assertiveness and looked up from the floor, which she had been studiously inspecting all through Carter's lecture, at the Commander. "So what are you yelling at me for?!? It wasn't me who launched that torpedo, but judging by the amount of yelling you're doing, you seem to think so!"
"Max...," began Carter angrily, but then visibly forced herself to relax. After a moment, and in a much more controlled voice, she said, "That last torpedo should never have hit the Hornet. It slipped through because you were off playing with that other Mulluran fighter."
Max held up a hand, interrupting Carter. She was starting to get a little angry herself now. "First of all," she said, "I was not playing. And second of all, I wasn't the only one out there! There's four of us, remember?"
"There used to be five," said a gentle voice from around the side of the nearest YF-6100. Jo and Sam stepped out from behind their cover and approached the two quarreling women.
"Yes, but Kim got reassigned," said Carter.
"We're shorthanded, Lee," pressed Jo. "We're used to working as a team of five, not four. Yeah, sure we screwed up big time and the Hornet took a bad hit, and being shorthanded's probably not the best excuse ever, but you shouldn't take it out on Max of all people. She's the best pilot among us." At Jo's side, Sam nodded in agreement with her friend's argument.
Carter and Max seemed to calm down. Jo had a way of gently pointing out the logical and reasonable facts behind situations, and neither of them could really dispute her conclusions. Carter sighed tiredly and looked at her team mates. "Maybe you're right," she said finally.
"So when is the new pilot supposed to get here?" asked Sam.
"If all goes well, our new pilot will be waiting for us at Starbase 901 when we arrive there in six days," replied Carter.
"Great," drawled Max. "We'll be shorthanded and have to babysit a wet-behind-the-ears pup straight out of the Academy...."
"And guess who's getting that assignment?" said Carter with an evil smile.
Max sighed. "There's no justice in this world...."